Page 40 of Iced Up Love: Part Two
Not clean.
Not structured.
Just pieces of her slipping through.
The way she feels against me.
Warm.
Real.
The way she tastes when she comes, when she forgets everything else, when it’s just us and nothing outside of that moment matters.
My chest tightens.
I don’t care about anything else. The thought settles quietly.
I don’t care about the season.
I don’t care about the game.
I don’t care about anything I thought mattered before this.
I don’t care if I never get to marry her.
The thought lands differently now, not sharp, not painful, just distant in a way it wasn’t before, like something I was holding onto that doesn’t matter anymore.
I just want her back.
That’s it.
That’s all that matters.
My hand tightens in the sheets, pulling them closer, my face pressing deeper into her pillow as something shifts in my chest, heavier this time, harder to ignore even with everything else softening around it.
Because I can’t do anything.
I don’t know how to help.
I don’t know where she is.
I don’t know what’s happening to her.
The thought lands too hard.
I roll further into the bed, curling slightly into the space, my face buried in her pillow as if I can block it out, as if I can hold onto something that still feels like her.
It doesn’t work.
It just makes it worse.
My throat tightens so fast it almost feels like something is lodged there, something I can’t swallow down or push past,and the first breath that comes out of me isn’t steady, isn’t controlled, it breaks halfway through like my body has forgotten how to do something as simple as breathe properly.
The second one is worse.
It catches, turns into something uneven and shaking, and before I can pull it back under control it’s already slipping, already breaking into something I can’t stop as my chest tightens hard enough that it hurts.
“Lia…”
